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youkissedareaderinthedark · 10 months ago

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Synopsis: The 3 times everyone else knew you and Lando were in love with each other, and the 1 time you two actually admitted it

female driver reader x lando norris

A/N: for this one, reader is 22 and drives for mercedes with george. also, most of the story is told from lando’s pov because this originally started off as an entirely different 3+1 fic, and I don’t have the energy to fix it. and obviously, things like race results, driver lineups, ect will be changed to better fit the story

Lando Norris knows Formula 1 is unpredictable. He knows you can’t tell what will happen during a race, nonetheless a season. But no matter how unpredictable the sport is, this was the most surprising part by far.

It’s barely been 10 years, but Lando feels like he’s known you forever. You two first met at the Karting World Championship in 2014, a race you were teammates with both him and Zhou Guanyu in. Even though he beat you to first place, your 14-year-old-self didn’t let that stop you from becoming best friends with him.

It was hard to keep track of each other when the two of you were traveling all over Europe to compete in different series, so Lando almost thought he’d never get to see you again. Until in 2020, when he heard talks of the most successful female driver yet making her way through the ranks.

Since you were announced as apart of the Mercedes driver line up in the beginning of 2022, you two have been attached at the hip. You both lived in Monaco and whenever you weren’t busy with media or team duties, you were together. Traveling, in the paddock, celebrating races; if you were there, so was Lando.

Fans were used to that fact and they usually expected it off the track, but not for races and track battles, so everyone was a bit surprised when you two placed P3 and P4 in Bahrain.

It was Round 1 of the 2023 season and even though everyone knows your results at Bahrain don’t dictate your entire season, Lando was still excited you were on the podium. He had qualified P6 behind George and yourself in P5 and P4, and with both Fernando’s Aston Martin and both Red Bulls in front of you, you weren’t expected to make it on the top steps.

Though after a few badly timed pit stops, Lando ended the race in P4, 5 seconds behind you in P3. Cheers rung out from around the grandstands as both the Mercedes and McLaren cars crossed the finish line. Your team garages were ecstatic, climbing the fence to meet you at the checkered flag and shouting congratulations through the radio.

Lando watched from behind as you steered your car into perc ferme alongside Max and Sergio and climbed out to celebrate with your team. It wasn’t P1, but it was a huge achievement to place so high so early in the season and it was obvious how proud everyone was of you.

He couldn’t help himself from leaving his car and engulfing you in a hug. You were both laughing and the Brit could practically hear your grin through it.

“You did amazing! I’m so proud of you” He says, the words muffled through your helmets.

“Thanks, I wish you were gonna be up there with me, you deserve it” you say, looking up to the podium.

Lando smiles and he’s suddenly grateful his helmet is there to hide his blush. “Thanks. Don’t worry though, soon enough we’ll be up there with a 1-2”

“With me P1, I assume?”

Your eyes are playful underneath your helmet, and he laughs. “Yeah, we’ll see. Go celebrate with your team, Y/n. Don’t ditch me for the after party though!” He shouts as you walk over to your post-race interview, starting to laugh.

“I’d never ditch you!” You shout back over your shoulder, your helmet and balaclava coming off to reveal your grin.

Lando leaves to get weighed and meet his team back in the McLaren garage, keeping his head gear on because of the stupid smile he’s all too aware is still on his face. He was supposed to go to the media pen to finish up some race interviews before sitting down for the debrief with McLaren, but you were his best friend; he couldn’t miss your first podium of the season.

Lando, still clad in his orange race suit, arrives just as Max’s national anthem is playing. He probably should be paying at least a bit of attention to the winner, he’s one of Lando’s best mates after all, but then he saw you, grinning on the third step under the many bright lights of the street circuit, and he couldn’t look away.

He watched with his own smile as you opened your bottle of champagne and poured the majority of it on the Red Bull drivers, before downing the rest of it yourself. He’d wait until you came back to street level, where he’d be waiting for another hug and feeling the sticky champagne and bright grin against his neck.

You’d start talking about the race, the moments where you didn’t think you’d make it to the podium and how happy you’d be if you could get another one. You’ll ask about his race and tell him that next weekend, he’d better be up there beside you, no matter what.

And Lando will be next to you, like he always is, smiling and hanging on to every word you say because you’re happy, so he’s happy too.

What Lando would not realize is that each moment, from when he hugged you after you got out of your car to just then when you were walking through the paddock together, had been caught by multiple people, each one thinking the one thing you two had not yet realized.

“They’re so in love with each other”

Lando Norris did not hate the Miami Grand Prix, at least not usually. But this time around, F1’s 2023 stop in Florida is one he could’ve gladly missed.

It was a double header weekend, and after coming off an extremely mediocre P9 finish in Azerbaijan, Lando was less than excited to spend 4 days in the hot sun in an even more mediocre car. There were so many unnecessary media obligations to go with the flashiness of Miami, and by Friday evening he was already looking forward to the flight back home.

The one thing that did brighten his day was you, who he also had dinner plans with after FP2. He let you distract him with whichever details about your life you had neglected to tell him before, let you get him excited for Sunday’s race again, and let you put him in a better mood.

You two were walking from the restaurant to Lando’s car, still talking and laughing as usual, when Lando asked to you come by his hotel after qualifying the next day.

“If both our qualifying are shit, we can get ice cream and mope together,” he posed jokingly, “and if it goes great, we can celebrate together as well”

But then you stop laughing and your tone changes. “Oh, sorry Lando, but I’m going out with Logan after qualifying; he’s gonna show me around Miami a bit. I’m sure he won’t mind if you come though? Do you want to?”

He pauses; Logan? “No it’s fine. I should probably be relaxing after tomorrow anyways, I think the heat’s getting to me a bit. You two have fun, though” He assures you, keeping a light-hearted tone to mask his distaste.

Logan?

Lando didn’t have anything against Logan, he thought he was a nice guy with a lot of potential. But now he’s taking his best friend away from him and for what reason? You can see Miami any day, any time you want, and if you wanted to, you certainly didn’t need him as your guide.

But fine. Lando does not own you, you’re perfectly allowed to have your own friends, and if you wanted to have an evening out with Logan Sargeant, it was perfectly okay with Lando.

The Brit drove you back to your hotel before setting off to his own, and while you were his best friend and of course, delightful company, he couldn’t help but dwell on the sour taste left in his mouth. He didn’t know why this bothered him so much.

By the time Lando was back in his room, he was too tired to figure it why and decided it was a problem for Future Lando.

He woke up Saturday morning completely forgetting about the events of last night and instead focused on getting the best results possible today. He met up with his trainer for breakfast, left for the track, and joined his PR officer in the McLaren garage. She was escorting Lando to the media pen when he suddenly slowed.

“Lando? What’s wrong?” The woman took note of his tense figure, his hard-set eyes.

All because you were walking away from the media pen with Logan at your side, laughing and looking way too happy for his liking.

He felt the sourness this time. He felt it rise throughout his body and spread like wild fire. His only question was why.

Why were you laughing so much? Why did he feel this way? Why couldn’t he let any of this go? Why were you with Logan and not with him?

“Nothing,” the McLaren drives says. “let’s go” Lando never usually hurries to the media pen, but he didn’t want to look at you and Mr. American boy-next-door any longer.

He was asked questions and he gave answers, Lando just couldn’t tell you what any of them were. This was the problem Past Lando had left for him, and he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

He ruled out anger; he didn’t feel mad, per se, more frustrated than angry. He wasn’t upset; he certainly didn’t feel sad. Possessiveness? He wasn’t usually possessive over his friends though, and you two weren’t dating or anything like that, so there was no real reason to feel protective. Still, Lando couldn’t shake the sourness, and was once again left without answers about you and his feelings.

It wasn’t hard to miss the Brit’s change in attitude, and it wasn’t something his friends were going to ignore.

“Are you okay, mate?” Carlos says, walking alongside him through the paddock after FP3. “You’ve been quiet all day”

“Yeah, ‘m fine. Just tired, I guess” Lando shrugs, not sure if he should tell the Ferrari driver.

“C’mon, you’re seriously not gonna tell me? It’ll make you feel better, trust me” Carlos pushed, and he hesitated before answering.

“I don’t know. I barely know what’s wrong myself” Carlos gives him a look, and he sighs before continuing.

“It’s just weird with Y/n lately. I don’t know but the entire weekend’s just been weird”

“Why? Because she’s hanging out with Logan?”

“How did you-”

“Lando, it’s not that hard to notice, and it’s not that hard to notice why you don’t like it” The Spaniard nudges him, looking at him with a mischievious glint in his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“You like Y/n, so you don’t like her hanging around with Logan” He says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“What’re you talking about? I don’t like Y/n, she’s my best friend, that’s ridiculous” Lando makes a face. That makes no sense, of course I don’t have feelings for Y/n.

“Yeah, and the Haas is going to win tomorrow. Lando, I told you, you can trust me. Just admit it, cabrón”

“Admit what? I don’t like her, I told you that” Lando insists, because he doesn’t. There’s no way.

“Okay mate, whatever you say” Carlos says, putting his hands up in surrender and moving towards the Ferrari garage. “Let me know how that ‘not liking my best friend thing goes’”

Lando just shakes his head and sighs. Carlos has no idea what he’s talking about.

Qualifying turns out to be the thing Lando needs to get his mind off everything; he qualifies P6 with Oscar right behind him and confidence in his car for tomorrow. The man spends some extra time going over the data from today with the strategists and leaves the track just after sunset to head back to his hotel.

He wasn’t completely lying to you yesterday night; the heat was having a bit of an effect on him, and it was probably a good idea to relax and stay in for the night. He ordered something from room service that his trainer would approve of and took a shower before climbing into bed.

A knock on his door is the thing that stops Lando from falling asleep.

It’s past 10, no one should be knocking at his door, but that’s not good enough of a reason to ignore the person, so he gets up to answer it and should probably be more surprised that’s it you.

“Not here to collect team secrets for tomorrow, are you?” Lando questions, jokingly.

“I don’t think we need anymore help beating you McLarens, thank you” You play along with a laugh.

“I’m offended. I hope you have an apology along to go with whatever that it” He gestures to the bag in your hands, and you nod.

“I do, but you’ll have to let me in first to get either” Your best friend moves aside to let you into his room and onto his couch.

“Seriously though, what’s up? Is something wrong?”

“Oh no, nothing’s wrong. I just felt bad for ditching you today and figured I could make up for it with ice cream” You shrugged, opening up the bag and holding a container covered in frost.

“I appreciate the gesture Y/n, but we both know our trainers-” You cut him off. “Would kill us if we eat this, I know. That’s why I only bought one, so we could just share and have half. That way it’s not really eating an ice cream sundae, it’s just eating a scoop and a half”

“I like your thinking”

“That’s why you keep me around” You both smile, and Lando gets up to get two spoons.

“You don’t have to be sorry, by the way. It doesn’t bother me that you went out with Logan” He knows you must’ve felt really guilty, because you’re still wearing the clothes you wore in the paddock, meaning you went immediately from wherever Logan took you to straight to get the ice cream and come here, despite the fact you should be in bed and it would be chaos if someone found out you were here this late Saturday night.

He also knows you wouldn’t do this for just anyone.

“I know. I still felt bad though” You shrug, thanking him before taking a spoonful of ice cream.

“Don’t be. Where’d he take you, anyway?” Lando questions. He knows that if he was talking about this any time else, he feel that sourness all over again. But there was no reason to if you were right here beside him.

“Nowhere special; we just walked around, shopped a bit, and stopped to get some food before we realized we should probably head back to our hotels”

“And aren’t you having the same realization now?” He asks, taking another spoon of ice cream.

“Yeah, but I’m not worried enough to the point where I’m actually gonna do it” You explain, and Lando laughs.

“So what? I’m stuck with you for the rest of the night then?”

“You say it like you don’t totally love the idea” You smile playfully.

“You’re right, I’d rather you here with me than anywhere else”

“Me too” The man misses your soft gaze and love-sick smile.

Truthfully, Lando just likes when you’re with him in general.

It was the Austria GP and for the first time in a while, Lando Norris felt a little carefree. He had over two weeks to recover from Canada, the next round was his home race, and things were looking positive for Sunday. He was happy with racing, and he was happy with you too.

Ever since Miami, you two have been closer than usual; fans were used to seeing you guys always together, but this time, they really never saw you without seeing Lando, and Lando without seeing you. Both of you seemed oddly smiley recently and it didn’t go without notice. Even more than usual, it was like you and Lando were in your own weird little obliviously-in-love bubble that nothing could break through.

Maybe that was why you and Lando finished P4 and P5, each of you one place away from a repeat of Bahrain. It obviously wasn’t your best finishes you two have ever had, but it was good enough for there to be a celebration afterwards. The drivers you and Lando were closest to also finished high in the points, and before you knew it, you had agreed to attending the after-party happening in a few hours at the nearest club.

You put on some makeup, fixed your hair, changed into a beautiful outfit, and stuffed your purse with your essentials before you got a text from Lando telling you that he was outside. You insisted that you could drive yourself and he didn’t need to pick you up, but Lando persisted, saying that it was stupid to bring two cars incase you weren’t fit to drive at the end of the night, and had to leave your very expensive car on the street all night.

“You look gorgeous, it almost makes up for the ridiculous amount of time I’ve spent waiting here for you” Lando says with a smirk as you open the door to his car.

You roll your eyes through your blush. “It wasn’t that long. Besides, my room’s on a high floor, it was the elevator’s fault.” You reason, clicking your seatbelt into place before Lando pulls out of the hotel parking lot and onto the streets.

“Yeah sure, blame the machinery because it’s never your fault you’re late”

“It’s not!” You insist with a laugh. He hums sarcastically in response, turning on the radio and letting it fill the comfortable silence

The streets in front of the club are lined with dozens of high-end cars, so you and Lando are forced to park nearly a block away from the entrance. The bouncer lets the two of you in without hesitation, and even from outside, you can hear the bass from the speakers inside.

The interior is exactly how you expected it to be, colorful strobe lights from overhead, music that you have to shout to hear someone over, and a dance floor that’s packed to the brim with celebrities, drivers, and everyone in between.

You and Lando claim the nearest booth to the exit, and he leans in close enough to be audible. “I’m going to get us a few drinks, try and see if you can find a few people” You nod, and the two of you go off in different directions.

You manage to locate Alex, Lily, George, and Carmen in a booth together and after a few very loud greetings, manage your way through the mob again to find Lando and lead him back to your friends. You all start talking and laughing, placing bets on which drivers are going home with a mystery girl, which ones are going to get black-out drunk, and which ones are going to show off their embarrassingly bad drunk dance moves in front of everyone.

Drinks and shots get handed out, a few more drivers join your table, and soon enough, you and your group are somewhere between tipsy and drunk and are moving onto the already-packed dance floor. Lando moved up to the DJ, telling you he’d be back to dance soon, and left you with your fellow drivers and their girlfriends.

You spend a few hours dancing with the girls, giggling through your drinks, and wandering around the club in search for more friends. At the point where your vision starts to got a bit blurry and the music is making your head hurt, you feel a hand on your shoulder and a familiar voice in your ear.

“Hey stranger!” Lando shouts, turning you around to face him.

“Lando!” You call out loudly, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. “Missed you” Alcohol made you a bit affectionate.

“Only been gone an hour and a half, love” Even though you can’t see his face and you’re not at your sharpest, you know he’s got a dumb smirk on his face.

“Missed you too, though” He says, taking the drink out of your hand and taking a sip before wrapping his hands around your waist.

“Are you here to dance with me?” You pull back, looking into his eyes. His pupils aren’t dilated, so you know he’s sober and the designated driver for the night.

“Wouldn’t want to do anything else” Even though everyone else around you is dancing at a fast, eager pace, you and Lando keep your arms wrapped around each other, bodies swaying softly, heads laying on each other’s shoulders.

Even with the flashing lights and booming music, you probably could’ve drowsed off on your best friends shoulder. You don’t realize how much time has passed but at some point, Lando taps your arm and pulls away from you.

“Time to go home, I think” He says, placing his hands on your shoulders to get you to focus on him.

“You think?” You reply, both drowsy and a little drunk.

“I think so. I’m gonna see if anyone else needs a ride and say goodbye, then we’ll leave, okay?” Lando tells you, intertwining your hands together before leading you further onto the dancefloor.

The Brit finds the other drivers and does what he said before handing you your purse and guiding you out of the club, hands still held together. Your best friend hands you his jacket to wear and places his arm around your waist as the two of you walk back to the car.

You know that Lando will get you back to your hotel and to your room where he’ll take your heels off for you. You know he’ll place a glass of water and a few Aspirins’ on a nightstand for you and lay down underneath the duvet with you because he’s too tired to drive back to his own hotel.

You’ll know you two will fall asleep almost immediately, and wake up closer than you were laying last night. You know Lando will not mind doing any of this, will actually like it, because you don’t let him take care of you as much as he’d like.

You know all of these things and a lot of other stuff too, you just don’t know that the person you did it all with is the person you’re in love with, or that he’s in love with you too.

+ 1

Lando always appreciated the summer break after half a season of racing, but there was something special about this one that made him wish it would never end.

You, Lando, and a group of your mutual friends planned a week-long trip to an island in the Caribbean as ‘one last hurrah’ before you two had to fly to Zandervort for the second half of the season. It was your fourth day on the island, and even though every moment since you arrived has been filled with some sort of fun and exciting adventure, this was already your favorite day of the trip.

You and Lando had connecting rooms, ‘a complete coincidence’ as your friends had put it, and this morning, you two decided to take advantage of it and make breakfast together. You weren’t supposed to meet with the others until a few more hours, and you loved cooking with Lando, so shortly after you woke up you made the short journey into his room.

“Morning,” your best friend greeted you, clad in black sweats and an old T-shirt you’ve seen millions of times. “I bought pancake mix from the store in the lobby, but we can run out and get something else if you like?”

“No, it’s okay,” you insist, “pancakes are fine. Besides, I know you make the best ones.”

“I know, you must be so jealous” Lando smirks, grabbing a mixing bowl and pan from the hotel’s kitchenette cabinet.

“Totally. So what’s on our agenda today?” You say, moving around him to take ingredients from the fridge.

“Not much, actually. I think we’re just going to the beach and walk around the town a bit” You nod as you grab your phone and click on the shared playlist between yourself and Lando.

You let the music fill the comfortable silence as the two of you move around the small kitchen. It’s a beautiful and all-too domestic scene; the morning sun streaming through the windows, the soft music in the background, the way you both seamlessly know your way around the kitchen, how easy it was to work around each other. They’re the facts your mind notices too quickly, and it’s hard to stop your brain from thinking about a future where things could be like this everyday.

Within a few minutes, you each had a reasonably-sized stack of pancakes that you brought outside onto the balcony with you. You settle into the adjacent chairs that look out to the waves crashing onto the beach and deep blue ocean. It’s still early; this part of the island isn’t awake yet, and it’s easy to relax in the still quiet.

While you shooed away the image of the future like this, Lando welcomed it with open arms. He thought how effortless it would be to make a scene like this; a hotel room, an apartment in Monaco, a house in the UK, Lando would take either and all of them. As long as you came with it.

His mouth speaking before his brain can control it. “I wish it was like this forever” He blurts out.

“You don’t want to go back to racing?” You look over at him, eyebrows furrowed. He doesn’t look back at you, keeps his eyes on the view in front of him instead.

“No, I do. I mean-” Lando pauses, thinks it over. He gets up from his chair to lean on the railing, his back facing you. This could ruin everything, he thinks. If he says it, he can’t go back, and nothing will be the same again.

He stops thinking.

“I mean with you. I honestly don’t care where we are; racing, on an island, whatever. We could be on another planet for all I care. As long as it’s just you and me, I think I could handle it” He finishes, feeling your presence next to him a few moments later, your shoulders brushing.

“Really?” You ask, eyes widened. You would’ve never thought he felt the same.

“Really. I’ve always felt that way” Then he’s looking you in that way, the way everyone’s been trying to explain to you for a while.

You don’t second-guess yourself when you put your hands around his face and press your lips onto his, and especially not when he starts moving his lips against yours. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him, and you don’t think you’d be mad if this was your forever.

You two finally pull away from each other, and even though the waves on the beach are still the same waves and the ocean is still the same deep blue, you think that everything changed just a little bit.

You’re still so close you could probably count his eyelashes if you wanted to, and you smile.

“I love you”

His smile mirrors yours the second after he hears it. “I love you too”

You two don’t really have to tell people; everyone figures it out within the first five minutes of being around both of you. Everyone teases you relentlessly, but internally, they’re just glad the two of you finally saw what’s been there all along.

i never really know how to end these. anyways, a lando fic to make up for the time i’ve been gone. sorry about that btw, i got major imposter syndrome and the lack of f1 content makes for a lack of motivation. this is also my first ln4 fic, and i have no idea what to expect from it. hope u enjoyed tho 🫶

#reader insert #formula 1 #driver reader #f1 imagine #f1 grid x reader #formula 1 driver imagines #female driver reader #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x female reader #lando norris x female driver reader #3+1 #slow burn #oblivious characters

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bekolxeram · 2 months ago

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Buck cannot believe it, even with all the unthinkable emergencies he has encountered throughout his career. A blazing airplane just landed on a freeway in one piece, not by pilots, but by Athena and a child.

What was supposed to be a certain death situation, has been turned around by the bravery and cooperation of everyone onboard and on the ground, even the actor.

Once Athena is safely evacuated from the crippled jet, Bobby runs to her with the desperation of a man stranded in a desert to an oasis, a sight Buck is all too familiar with. He doesn't know if he should be sad for Bobby and Athena for getting into danger every time they travel, or should he be happy that they are always there to help save people. Then Buck feels a tap on his shoulder.

"Thank you. For showing me what a firefighter is supposed to be." Brad, the Hotshots captain said.

"No, I should be the one thanking you." Buck shrugs. "You've really come through and helped us a lot. If you're considering a career change, you would make a fine firefighter."

Brad briefly ducks his head, then gives Buck a cryptic smirk, "And likewise, if you ever get tired of the bureaucracy, you can work on my show. You have that… leading man charm, acting could work for you." Brad winks.

"Really? Um… I love my job, but that could be fun?" Buck replies, imagining the life of a famous TV actor.

"Yeah, I can get you a guest star spot. You should come by the studio later, I can give you a tour." Brad leans his body against the 119 truck and stares right into Buck's eyes. Yet, all Buck can hear is the word "tour" and he can't stop thinking about Tommy.

"I have to go get my car back anyway, but that sounds great! You know, my…" Buck doesn't even have time to finish his sentence.

"Sure! You know what? You should come to the bootcamp I set up with Captain Nash too. Just us guys, heart to heart, men versus wild." "Uhh…. bootcamp?" Since when does Bobby organize firefighter bootcamp for Hollywood actors? Buck asks himself. He really should take the time to talk to Bobby more, now that he's adapting to the new arrangement at work.

"Oh, you don't like it? Forget about it. We can take my private jet to go anywhere you want. Bahamas? Hawaii? Europe?" Brad steps closer to Buck. "I just thought you would be a fun travel companion?" Brad puts his hand on Buck's shoulder and slowly rubbing it. Buck looks at Brad's hand and finally realizes the overly flirtatious atmosphere brewing between them.

"Ah… It would be fun and all but…" Buck dodges his head to the side and waves one of his hands, "I gotta tell you, I've already got a boyfriend, and it's getting serious so…" Buck rises his eyebrows and smiles to try his best at an apologetic expression.

"Oh, Oh… so it wasn't me you were smiling at then…" Brad stares at the ground, clearly looking embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry, you're a very attractive man, but I… My boyfriend is a pilot too, a helicopter pilot… and a firefighter. This all just makes me think of him." Buck cannot contain his smile.

"It's okay, I wish you two the best." The actor utilizes his skill to mask his disappointment. "My offer for the studio tour and private jet ride still stand though."

"Actually, you know what? There is something from your set I want to borrow…" Buck again is cut off mid sentence, but this time, by a familiar voice.

"Evan!" Buck whips his head around and sees a scene that reminds him of his sister's wedding.

Tommy, again in his turnout gear, runs towards Buck with open arms and concern on his face.

"Are you alright? Eddie told me you went to get Bobby and next thing I knew you were on the 110 parked in front of the plane!" Tommy's hands roam around Buck's body, not in their usual, sensual way, but trying to check for any injury like a doctor would.

"I'm fine. Look, all in one piece." Buck opens his arms and turn around, to showcase how perfectly healthy he is. "I'm sorry I made you worry." He understands too well what dating a first responder means. Part of him still expects people to leave him the first instant he makes them scared for his life.

"What are you talking about? All I want is for you to be okay… When I saw you weren't there with the 118, I just knew you were in danger. I was so close to stealing my heli…" Buck pulls Tommy's chin in with his fingers and shuts him up with a searing kiss, just like their first. Tommy wraps his arms around Buck's waist to minimize their distance. They move naturally like they were made for each other.

Brad looks on and thinks to himself, "that's it. We need a queer storyline."

#Ugghh I suck at writing fiction #I should stick with planes #It was supposed to be some silly headconon but it got too long #I guess this counts as a ficlet?#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 spoilers #tevan #kinley

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rileyslibrary · 2 years ago

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Meal, Under-the-Stars

Summary: Simon’s inability to show affection irritates you. Until Valentine’s Day arrives.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,360

Notes:

angst/fluff

*sighs* it’s almost Valentine’s so *gestures aggressively at the fic*

i made sure it’s the least amount of cringe, pinky promise

Want more?

———————————————————————

You collapse in your bus seat, travelling home after another long day at the office. The chair feels too stiff, and the ride is too bumpy. That’s what you get for missing your bus and taking a different route. Damn it. Your neck is tense from the hours of hunching over the computer, and a pulsing pain has settled behind your eyes, threatening to rip your skull apart. As if your physical agony wasn’t enough, the bus’s noises aren’t helping. Without your headphones, you’re left to suffer in silence and listen to the people around you.

The two women in front of you talk nonstop about their upcoming Valentine’s Day plans. The first, with a smug look, reveals how her boyfriend has planned a romantic getaway to Europe. You can almost hear the silent “aren’t I lucky?” that hovers at the end of her sentence. Her friend humbly brags back about her partner taking her to a jewellery store where she can pick out whatever she wants. You suppress a groan and roll your eyes instead.

You turn to your left. Your attention is drawn to a man whose face is concealed by a towering bouquet of flowers. The sight of him and the enormous gift next to him makes you wonder. Could it be chocolates? The package seems too bulky for that. Lingerie maybe? It looks too heavy for delicate lace. Perhaps it contains the embodiment of his love for his significant other, ripped from his soul and transformed into a tangible form, you ponder sarcastically.

The image of Capitalism, dressed in a three-piece tailored suit and hat, sitting on a throne made of kitschy teddy bears, comes to mind. He sips a glass of wine made from rose petals and sneers at the spectacle before him: people spending their hard-earned money on unnecessary gifts and experiences, all in the name of love. When did a simple and sincere “I love you” become insufficient? When did it become necessary to spend a fortune on extravagant trips, sparkling diamonds, and wrapped boxes filled with empty promises? Did your grandparents go to such lengths to express their affection, or is this just the plague of your generation?

And why does this all bother you so much? Could it be that Simon’s inability to express his affection for you is causing your bitterness? You recall Aesop’s fable about the fox and the grapes. Like the fox, you cannot grasp what you want, so you try to convince yourself that what others have is, like the grapes, sour. Admit it: you’re envious of those who are happily celebrating Valentine’s Day, surrounded by love and affection, while you’re on your way home to a strained relationship, where love is shown through practical acts like fixing the thermostat or reminding you to take an umbrella on a potentially rainy day.

You knew he was reserved and guarded the moment you met him. “A mystery wrapped in a balaclava”, you used to jokingly call him. It took months of building rapport and earning his trust before he finally revealed his face to you. But, despite this, you find yourself wanting more. Wasn’t this enough? Get a grip, sweetheart; Valentine’s Day is for the rest of the world, not you two.

As the bus pulls to a stop, you rise from your seat and step off, feeling heavy and reluctant as you make your way home. The weight of your expectations slows your pace as if you are afraid to face reality—that the love you seek may not be the love he is capable of giving...

You reach the front steps, the cool metal of the key turning in your hand as you unlock the door. You push it open, the emptiness inside greeting you like an old friend. Something on the floor catches your attention; military bags and tactical gear are neatly arranged near the entrance. You look across the kitchen table to see a map with checkmarks on it. Has he been summoned for a mission and forgotten to tell you? No, it cannot be; this is far worse than you expected.

As you make your way down the hall, the noise coming from the bedroom fills the silence. The door is slightly ajar, and you push it open to find him standing before you, freshly showered and wrapped in a crisp white towel from the waist down. Droplets of water cling to his damp hair, with strands hanging over his forehead. His towering stature is imposing, his muscles resembling those of a Greek statue carved by a master artist. Like faded memories of battles fought, scars are dotted across his body, each telling a tale of modern warfare.

He smirks as you enter the room, but you can’t help the flare of anger that rises within you.

“You’re late,” he says, continuing to dry himself.

How dare he.

“Traffic,” you respond, trying to steady your voice. “Where are you going?”

“We are going,” he corrects you nonchalantly.

Huh?!

“W-we?” you stammer. “Simon, where are we going?”

“Out,” he says with a smirk.

You frown at him. You’re exhausted—tired of work, tired of the long trip back home, tired of his mysterious demeanour. You need answers—complete, coherent, straightforward answers—and you need them fast. Now.

“Care to explain further, Simon?” you ask, trying to compose yourself.

“We're going camping,” he says as he starts putting on his gear.

Your heartbeat quickens. Suddenly the grapes are not sour anymore. They seem sweet again.

“So, camping, huh?” you ask with a cheeky grin. “Why?”

“Don’t make me say it,” he says sternly. “I’ve seen enough atrocities to know what today is.”

“You never struck me as the romantic sort, Mr Riley,” you reply.

“Oh, but I am romantic, my love,” he corrects you. “Just not the cliché type.”

But, of course! That’s why you fell for him in the first place. He’s not your typical guy. He may not serenade you, but he’ll fix things with his own hands. And he won’t kneel on one leg to recite poetry, but he’ll ensure you’re warm, safe, and fed.

Fed. Food. Did he think about food?

“I’ll prepare something quick to take with us,” you tell him.

“No need to,” he replies. “I’ve prepared an outstanding variety of MREs for us.”

What a guy.

“What about me?” you ask pointing at his gear. “I don’t have the appropriate clothing for this.”

He looks amused. “That’s weird,” he comments. “I’m sure I saw something at the entrance earlier today.”

You stare at him, confused, dash to the front door, and inspect the gear you saw earlier. To your surprise, it’s all your size.

You slip into the gear, feeling its weight and texture against your skin. The material is rugged yet flexible, allowing you to move easily. You run your hand over the pockets, checking to ensure everything is in place, before returning to the bedroom.

As you enter, Simon looks up from his bag, and his gaze travels down your form. You stand tall and proud; sure, you’re still tired and in pain, but at least you’re happy. You twirl for him to get a better look.

He nods his approval with a smile. “You look like a proper camper,” he says jokingly. “I had no idea you had it in you.”

“Come on, Simon!” You shout, fists clenching at your sides as you stand in the doorway. “It’s Valentine’s Day,” you implore, your voice growing softer. “At least say something nice.”

He regards you, his lips curling upward in amusement. “Alright, alright,” he says, holding up his hands in surrender. “You want something nice?” He asks, and you nod, smiling.

“You got it.” He steps closer, towering over you, and gazes down with warm and tender eyes. “You look beautiful,” he says. “Absolutely stunning.”

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod ghost #cod mw2 #simon riley

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savvytravelers · 7 months ago

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Packing Tips For Europe

Mastering Your European Adventure: The Ultimate Packing Guide

Prepare for your European adventure with confidence and style. Whether you're exploring enchanting Christmas markets or soaking up the sun along picturesque riverbanks, our Europe River Cruises Packing Guide has you covered. From cozy winter essentials to lightweight summer attire, we've curated a comprehensive packing list to ensure you're ready for any season and scenario. Get ready to elevate your travel experience and embark on a journey filled with unforgettable moments and unparalleled beauty.

Fall

Embrace the Autumn Palette: Pack a versatile wardrobe of five tops, three pants, and a chic dress in neutral hues.

Layer Like a Pro: Invest in scarves and lightweight jackets for brisk mornings and cozy evenings.

Harvest Season Essentials: Don't forget a waterproof windbreaker and a wine bottle protector for vineyard tours.

Winter

Cozy Up in Style: Double up on fleece-lined tights, weatherproof socks, and fashionable boots.

Combat Dry Skin: Keep skin hydrated with SPF moisturizers and indulge in our complimentary hot beverage station.

Festive Accessories: Bundle up with touchscreen gloves, cashmere scarves, and hats for Christmas market explorations.

Spring

Floral Fantasy: Pack a foldable daypack for tulip-filled excursions and vibrant outdoor adventures.

Versatile Attire: Transition seamlessly from sunrise stretching classes to hiking expeditions with functional workout gear.

Stylish Layers: Enhance your look with wraps and shawls while staying comfortable on cooler days.

Summer

Beat the Heat: Stay cool with moisture-wicking fabrics, sunglasses, and mini sunscreen bottles for on-the-go protection.

Poolside Perfection: Don't forget your swimsuit for relaxing dips in the sun-deck pool and plush robes for post-swim lounging.

Rainy Day Ready: Prepare for unexpected showers with a lightweight hooded rain jacket that won't cramp your style.

All-Season Round Travel Essentials

Power Up: Equip yourself with a 2-prong European Travel Plug Adapter for seamless connectivity.

Carry-On Must-Haves: Pack essentials like outfits, medication, and travel documents in a compact carry-on bag for peace of mind.

Comfort is Key: Slip into compression socks and wrap yourself in a shawl for long flights to Europe.

Packing Pro Tip: Follow the lead of seasoned travelers like Joanne Weir and opt for a hard-side carry-on with expandable storage.

With our detailed packing guide in hand, you're poised to conquer Europe in style. From the vibrant colors of fall to the festive cheer of winter, the blooming beauty of spring, and the sun-soaked days of summer, savvy travelers can navigate every season with confidence and flair. So, pack your bags and embark on the European adventure of a lifetime!

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kas-e · 1 year ago

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Clearing skies on the shelf.

#photography #nature #nikon #landscape #original #photographers on tumblr #art #travel #mountains #europe #backpackers #fine art #sandisk #swiss gear #back country #bulgaria

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tarot-archives · 7 months ago

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Modern AU! Laios Headcanons

He lives somewhere in Northern Europe. Laios grew up in a close knit community that’s far from the city.

He finds the people and the place to be dull since not much happens in his home. He has frequent nature walks and it started his interest in biodiversity at a young age.

His mom bought him a a travel book since he liked traveling too much as a child. His top places include those with amazing fauna and exotic food.

His top activities include: snorkeling in the Philippines, birdwatching in the Amazon, and an endless amount of food trips.

at 18, he was conscripted to the military since it was mandatory for his country. He hated every second of it and was itching to get out.

After the military, he took a break year and did various part time jobs anywhere that isn’t his village.

He went to college again at 20. He chose something with animals so general Biology. He regrets not choosing Marine Biology because of how cool the experiences are.

His clubs include culture clubs (because he likes hearing about other cultures) and photography club (his new acquired hobby).

He eventually shifted to Marine Biology and graduated BS in Marine Biology.

His main reason for shifting is venturing into the deeper waters of the ocean. He finds the fishes there to be amazing! (despite looking scary).

During his work leave, Laios will complete the to do list he had as a child. He wants to see more birds, more mammals, more creatures (but has developed an interest in eating exotic things!)

He wants to take up Wildlife Biology but he needs a masters degree so maybe after a few years.

Since joining the photography club, he takes really good pictures now. He sends them to Falin—who’s also in her own adventure around the world.

He hates octopus after trying to eat a live one and almost choked to death, landing him to the hospital. He has disinterest for cephalopods now.

AN: I wanted to try something new with laios and it’s him with marine biology. It’s just me but my school’s marine biology is really cool. they get to answer their exam, i scuba gear, while under the sea. i think laios would want that too. Also, i think marine biology fits him because he wants to explore the unexplored, humanly terrifying creatures of the deep.

#Laios Touden #Laios x reader #Laios touden x reader #the x reader part comes later

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yarpharp · 5 months ago

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Yeah so I'm like nine years late to the Witcher 3: The Wild Hunt train, but I gotta get off my chest some shit about this game while I'm just beginning to play it.

I never knew that GERALT HAD TO PUT UP WITH EXCHANGE RATES BETWEEN KINGDOMS. I never thought the game would think that hard about worldbuilding, but Holy Shite I had to go to an Actual Dwarf-run bank in a fucking city to get my money exchanged. Why did nobody tell me this? This is a fucking fascinating mechanic. I love this.

Another thing: I have read the books and watched some of the Netflix show. I am aware Witchers are treated like absolute shite. But oh my god the amount of yelled out slurs and insults I get pelted with going through towns and cities and NILFGAARDIAN CAMPS is crazy. Geralt is getting verbally abused by not just Northerners, but bitched out in LATIN by NILFGAARDIANS! It's fucking jarring and realistic and wow this is not the immersion I was expecting.

Durability really tries to fuck with you in this game too. I've played plenty of MMOs with durability counters on weapons and armor, but that shit never had any severe consequences. In this game? I have never panicked so hard as when my steel sword threatened to break on me in the middle of a fucking fight. I've reached this strange place of absent paranoia where I regularly check my gear after every big fight. Is this what mercenaries felt like in Ye Olde Europe when checking their gear? But this shit is low-key stressful.

Also... Roach. I love my horse. I love em so much. I now understand Geralt's deep attachment to his horse. Getting around is a fucking nightmare without a horse. Fuck fast travel, my homies worship the sweet brown horse that sometimes glitches violently when you whistle for her.

#witcher 3 #witcher 3 wild hunt #wild hunt #witcher #geralt #video games #i am having the time of my life #and i say that with delight #rambling #game design

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roses-for-rosalyn · 1 year ago

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what if abby's father and the reader's father were friends and the like to hangout and play tennis a lot ; one day jerry anderson tries to convince his daughter to play a game with him, his friend and his daughter (reader) who has just returned home after two years of travelling ;

both girls accept their father's invitation! then the big day arrives and abby finds herself in front of reader in her pretty tennis set (and maybe something could happen in the locker room, after a heated match 👀)

I'm baaaack!

Sorry this took me so incredibly long it's been a weird few weeks. I hope I did your idea justice, she's a long one.

word count: 3.3k

content warnings: enemies to lovers, mean, competitive Abby, thigh riding, fem! reader, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), overstimulation, dirty talk, modern au where Abby's dad isn't dead obvi, no use of y/n

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You were sitting at your kitchen counter sipping on a glass of ice water and gazing out the window, watching the summer breeze rattle the trees. It had been a few weeks since you’d gotten back from Europe, but ice still felt like a luxury. Europe was so beautiful and you wouldn’t trade it for anything, but after a few years you started to yearn for air conditioning, cold water and disgusting greasy fried food. Your first bite of a McChicken back in the states was orgasmic.

You also missed your family, your dad would call you every other day and talk about his day in incredible detail. He joined a country club and got into tennis while you were gone, he even made a few friends. You were especially happy about that because you were worried about him getting lonely while you were gone. You didn’t want him rotting in an empty house while you went out and traveled the world. Even though your dad’s days were mundane and repetitive you just liked listening to him talk. His voice was the only thing that could dull the feeling of homesickness.

The front door opening pulls you out of your thoughts. Your dad walks in clearly having just got back from the country club, he was dressed head to toe in tennis gear including a visor. You can’t help but giggle at how stupid and preppy he looks. You didn’t exactly grow up going to country clubs, and dressing in brand name clothes. Luckily your dad had gotten a new job so he could splurge on himself. It made you happy to watch him treat himself for the first time in his life.

“What? Why are you laughing at me?” He looks up and down checking his clothes for stains or any wardrobe malfunctions.

“Nothing, you just look a little funny dressed in your tennis uniform. Not exactly used to you in country club attire.” You smile as he acts mock offended.

“I think it suits me, thank you very much.” He dramatically marches over to the fridge to fill up his water bottle. He’s really not gonna let go of this.

“You’re right, you were born to wear exclusively Vineyard Vines and sip wine on the balcony of your third beach house.” You say with a smirk.

“Sounds pretty nice to me.” He smiles and leans on the counter across from you.

He hesitates before saying “I’ve been meaning to invite you to play with me and Jerry, I think you’d have fun, it’ll be like the good old days on your high school tennis team. You’d probably deeply humble both of us.” Jerry was your dad’s best friend right now, one of the first people that welcomed him into the country club.

“Dad, I haven’t played tennis in three years I don’t kn-”

“Jerry said he’d bring his daughter too. She also used to play a lot of sports in high school. We could do father daughter teams or daughters vs fathers. It’ll be fun.” He sounds so excited, you would feel way too guilty turning him down at this point.

“Ok, ok. Have you met his daughter? Is she like.. Nice?” You didn’t want to have to fake getting along with her for your dad’s sake, if you were being honest you would probably end up doing that anyway. Your dad wasn’t exactly good at finding you friends.

“Yes, she’s incredibly nice, and respectful. She’s a few years older than you, about 25 I think, and she works for a construction company.” He pauses trying to recollect the little information he knows about his friend’s daughter. “She’s so strong I’m pretty sure she could pick me up bridal style.” Your dad laughs at his own joke, but now you are a little nervous. It’s starting to sink in that your dad essentially set up a playdate for you with an incredibly buff woman. You just hope you don’t end up noticeably ogling at her, maybe you’ll get lucky and she’ll be incredibly mean.

You woke up bright and early the next morning, your dad bribed you with a fancy breakfast before the match. The food was delicious, but you couldn’t stop your nervous movements, constantly tapping your fingers or feet. Your dad noticed and reassured you there was no reason to be nervous, and that there’s no pressure. To be honest your nerves weren’t completely because you were out of practice. Meeting new people always made you anxious, especially when it was arranged like this. There was an unspoken expectation for everyone to get along and enjoy themselves and you liked to keep your expectations low.

Before you knew it you and your dad were walking to the tennis courts. Your dad noticed you were starting to get all up in your head.

“Hey, loosen up kiddo this will be fun, if it’s not you let me know and we can leave. I’ll just tell them I’m not feeling well and we can get ice cream. Jerry will understand.” He messes with your hair a bit and you feel mildly relieved.

Once you get to the tennis court all of the relief you felt drained from your body, immediately replaced with pure anxiety. As you walk onto the smooth green court you see a middle aged brunette man, no doubt that was Jerry, and a tall strong blonde standing next to him. She towered over him, every muscle chiseled to perfection by what must have been some higher power. As you got closer you could see her biceps straining against her blue t-shirt, her thighs were barely visible, but from what you could see they were just as muscular as her arms. You were beginning to ogle when you’re snapped out of it from the sound of your dad greeting Jerry. Your dad shakes hands with Jerry and Abby and you begin to do the same. Abby’s blue eyes pierced right through you, a neutral expression adorning her face. She was incredibly intimidating considering she could clearly snap you in two. You shake Jerry’s hand “I’ve heard so much about you, hope you still remember your stuff from high school. Your dad and I have gotten pretty good.”

You smile and reply “It’s been a while, but I’m sure I’ll warm up in no time!” You liked to stay humble, but honestly you were pretty good at tennis. You had won a lot of games and you were one of the best on the team. You didn’t talk about it much though because you were self aware enough to know literally no one cares about tennis. You were also as a result extremely competitive so you were hoping you would be able to tone it down in order to not scare your dad’s friend away.

You move to shake Abby’s hand “I’m Abby, nice to finally meet you.” From her tone you would have assumed she thought it was indeed not very nice to meet you. But you nod and smile as her calloused hand engulfs yours. You can’t help but notice how warm her skin is to the touch and how large her hands are.

She was incredibly attractive.

“Alrighty you guys ready for an ass whoopin?” Jerry jests.

“You bet.” Your dad replies.

You and your dad make your way to the other side of the net and get into your ready positions. Abby serves the ball first and her swing was strong, but it was no match for your speed. You quickly learned the harder Abby hit the ball the louder she would grunt, so naturally you attempted to rile her up further. You would smirk arrogantly at her every time you and your dad gained a point, and take an extra long time getting ready to serve on the rare occasion she and Jerry would score a point. You and your dad rack up points quickly and the blonde was growing visibly frustrated. She was starting to hit the ball even harder, her jaw was clenched and her expression was so serious. It was adorable.

Eventually Jerry calls for a break and sits on one of the benches with you dad, leaving you to sit with Abby. Alone.

You sit down next to her on the wooden bench and start sipping from your water bottle. She does the same and you sit in silence for a bit. You notice the sweat on her brow and how her shirt is starting to stick to her skin. You can almost make out her abdominal muscles through the thin blue fabric.

“I’m not usually this bad at sports, not used to losing.” Abby says, looking straight ahead. You can’t help but smile at her discontent, she seems just as competitive as you.

“I’m sure your strong muscles get you pretty far in most sports, but apparently tennis is not one of them, especially when you're up against an expert like me.” You say trying to joke around to lighten her mood.

“I wouldn’t classify a varsity tennis player as an expert, but okay.” She says with a smug look, still not facing you. She definitely did not understand your humor.

“Clearly enough of an expert to beat you.” You shoot back. Abby grows silent and continues to sip her water.

You sit in silence while your dad chats with Jerry, giving up on trying to make conversation with Abby. Eventually Jerry and your father stand up ready to finish the game. You and your dad beat them miserably. The game only ended because the sun started to go down, the country club quickly emptying out for the day.

Your dad and Jerry suggest you all get washed up in the locker rooms before leaving. They walk away from the tennis court side by side talking and laughing while you and Abby walk behind them in almost total silence. Once the group reaches the locker rooms the two dads turn to you and Abby.

“Would it be ok if me and Jerry grab a drink together? Abby can take you home in Jerry’s car.” The absolute last thing you wanted was to be stuck in a small car with this mean blonde, but you smiled and nodded.

“See you later kiddo.” Your dad smiles and tussles your hair before walking into the locker room.

You walk into the locker room as well, planning to just keep your distance from Abby for as long as you could until you were stuck with her in a tiny car. You can hear her heavy footsteps follow behind you and you quickly put your bag down, grab a towel and walk towards the showers to avoid facing her. You walk into one of the stalls and turn on the shower. The warm water helps to calm you down and soothes you. You lather on the soap massaging your muscles to relieve any soreness or tension, making sure you washed all the sweat away from the match. Unfortunately you have to be quick because you don’t want to make Abby any more annoyed than she was.

As you step out and begin to dry yourself off you realized you forgot your change of clothes.

Fuck.

You wrap the towel around you tightly and make your way to the lockers. Abby is sitting on the bench in the middle lacing up her shoes. Thank god she was looking down. You scramble over to your bag and grab your clothes out. You turn to head back to the showers to change in peace but Abby’s voice stops you.

“You took fucking forever.” She’s not looking at you, which you have observed to be a habit of hers.

“Didn’t want to stink up your car. Is that ok with you?” Abby scoffs, but says nothing in response.

“Seriously what the fuck did I do to you?” You blurt out, exasperated. You’re not usually this confrontational, but you felt like you deserved an answer. “I have barely had a conversation with you and for some reason you seem to have a problem with me or something.”

Abby stands up angrily to face you and you had almost forgotten you were wearing a towel until she looked at you up and down with wide eyes. “You weren’t even gonna get dressed before asking me that question?” She sounds genuinely pissed off. Was everything you did an inconvenience?

“Doesn’t matter, just answer it.” You look her straight in the eyes, challenging her.

“Fine. You really wanna know?” You nod “I barely had a conversation with you and I could tell you were a brat.” As she’s talking she starts walking towards you, you didn’t even realize you were backing away until you felt the cool metal lockers against your skin. “You have an attitude problem, you know that? You don’t know when to shut the fuck up” She’s close, too close, she’s looking directly down at you daring you to respond.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You were the one who started being rude to me.” You refuse to break eye contact with her, trying to intimidate her from your height was ineffective, she wasn’t backing down. “What are you gonna do?” You ask boldly, tilting your head inviting her to answer. “Teach me a lesson? We both know you’re not gonna do anything, so just let me get dressed so I can get home and never see you again.” She doesn’t respond, the only sound was you and Abby’s synchronized breaths as she stared at you with a fire in her eyes. Her stare somehow made you feel more naked than you already were, making you overly aware of the fact that you were wearing a towel that was starting to slip down.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for sweetheart.” She says almost breathlessly. The anger in her eyes quickly turns into a hunger when she looks down at your towel slowly slipping off your body. You’re holding on to the towel for dear life.

“Fuck.” Abby says breathlessly before doing the absolute last thing you could have expected. She kisses you. Hard.

You let out a surprised squeak and quickly back away, both of your chests heaving. You look in her eyes and see a desperation and hunger that’s almost scary, but for some reason you kiss her back. Abby melts into you and threads her fingers into your hair. You place your hands gently against her chest as she pushes you further against the lockers with her strong body. Her hands slowly travel down to the towel barely maintaining your dignity. She gently pries your hands from the soft material and rips it off throwing it across the room, keeping her lips on yours the entire time. You barely notice the cool air against your bare skin, she is so close to you you can feel her body heat radiate through her clothing.

Abby uses her foot to move yours outward, spreading your legs enough for her to slot her thigh between them. You moan into her mouth the moment her strong thigh makes contact with your bare cunt. You start slowly writhing against her, trying to relive the ache that was growing in your center. Abby breaks away and looks down at you desperately grinding on her thigh. “You’re already so wet for me sweetheart. Barely had to do anything.” She smiles smugly as she watches you become a moaning mess, her thigh creating a perfect pressure against your clit.

Abby starts kissing you down your neck, occasionally sucking on the sensitive skin, the feeling of her rough tongue causing you to whimper. She begins circling her fingers around your nipples, teasing them, before pinching them and rolling them between her fingers. You begin to move faster against her thigh and the pleasure in your belly begins to build. Your moaning starts to become louder as you begin to reach your high. Abby notices and moves her thigh further against you, putting even more pressure on your sensitive bud. “You close baby?” You nod and whine, desperate for any kind of release. You start moving faster against Abby’s thigh and your pleasure quickly hits its peak. It comes crashing against you in overwhelming waves, forcing loud moans from your lips. Abby eventually puts her leg down and backs away slightly, before kneeling in front of you. Before you can ask any questions she grabs one of your legs, hooks it around her shoulder and licks a stripe up your soaking cunt. You hiss through your teeth, sensitive from your first orgasm. She begins teasing your clit with her tongue and you have to thread your fingers into her hair for something to hold on to.

You barely manage to whimper out, “Abs-fuck- I-I’m too sen-senitive.”

She stops for a second and looks up at you. The sight of her kneeling between your legs is nearly enough to have you coming again. “You can take it baby, gonna make you come until you can’t give me that attitude anymore.” And with that she starts lapping at your cunt once again. She sucks your clit into her mouth, her tongue circling your sensitive bud. You let out a surprised whine, your chest heaving from the intense sensation. Abby’s hands grab hold of your hips, bring you closer to her mouth.

You can feel another orgasm building as Abby rubs her thumbs in circles against your skin. You begin uncontrollably writhing against her tongue, but Abby quickly uses her grip on your hips to pin you firmly against the lockers forcing you to remain still. The action caused your pleasure to bubble over. “Abby-”, you whine out “-ffuck-fuck.”

She keeps assaulting your clit through your orgasm, not slowing down. As you begin to come down, you become sensitive again and try to wriggle away from her. She pins your hips against the lockers and looks up at you with a stern look in her eyes. She wasn’t going to stop until you couldn’t even hold yourself up.

She shoves two fingers inside of you causing you to gasp at the sudden intrusion. Her digits slid in easily, your arousal now dripping down your thighs. She curls her fingers forward causing you to have to bite your lip to keep from screaming.

“Don’t you fucking dare bite your lip I want everyone to be able to hear you screaming for me sweetheart.” You clench around her thick fingers at her words and Abby takes that as a sign to keep talking. “You’re taking me so well princess. Think I can add another finger?” You nod eagerly at her in response. “Use your words baby.”

“Y-yes pl-please yes.” With your pathetic reply she adds another finger, filling you to the brim. She fucks you at a steady pace occasionally looking up at you to watch your face scrunch up in pleasure. She begins sucking hard on your clit causing you to let out a pornographic moan. She speeds up her fingers, hitting your g-spot with each thrust. Little moans and whimpers were escaping your lips every time her fingers hit that spongy spot. Your walls began clenching around Abby’s fingers and she knew you were close. Your orgasm hit you quickly and caught you by surprise, your whole body feeling the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt. You’re not even sure what noises you were making or what you were saying, the pleasure was so blinding all you could do was buck your hips into Abby’s mouth. You were being held up exclusively by Abby’s grip on your hips. She stands up and quickly scoops you up bridal style to sit you down on the bench. She helps you get dressed and you could barely protest, she reduced you to jello. Abby stands up and offers her hand to help you up. You oblige and as you stand up she says “Need you to teach me your tennis skills sometime.” Weirdly she’s smiling.

You can’t help but smirk, “Yeah? Well it’s gonna cost you and I don’t take sexual favors as payment.”

#abby anderson #the last of us 2 #abby x you #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby smut #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #the last of us smut

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folkloresthings · 1 year ago

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BECCA!! Congrats on 1k, I love your writing and I’m glad so many other people do too <3

NORTHANGER ABBEY — send a muse + your favourite trope and i’ll write a drabble/blurb.

Could you do Sebastian Vettel + pining/unrequited love but with a happy end? (Kind of à la Amy & Laurie in little women??)

AMY AND LAURIE CODED!!! spot the little women refs

SOMEDAY. ❨ sebastian vettel x reader ❩

✩⡱ warnings: mention of v*mit

the light of sebastian’s presence had lit your life for as long as you could — or wanted to remember. young when you’d first met, you at nineteen and him twenty—four, donning his red bull gear and a world championship. the bar in which you had met wasn’t anything special, tucked away in the heart of valencia. you were travelling with friends, he was working his way towards his second championship.

it was easy to spot him across the bar, all blonde curls and dazzling eyes. a woman hung on his arm, whispering in his ear while a friend—of—a—friend introduced you both. he’d barely looked at you, probably to preoccupied with how the woman’s hands were wandering further south by the minute.

your best friend was more of a racing fan than you, and had coincidentally planned the route of your travels across europe to coincide with the grand prix schedule. the next time you saw him was in budapest, nursing the same drink he’d had in spain but arms bare of playthings for the night.

“vodka soda, please.”

“i remember you,” he had slurred, pointing aimlessly towards you as you spoke across to the barman. “valencia!”

you assumed his exclamation of the city was his connecting of the dots, so you sent him a nod and a small smile. “yeah, we both know joseph.”

“joseph, right,” sebastian mused, vague familiarity dancing across his features. “good guy.”

he looked just as handsome that night as he had in valencia, though slightly drunker. you had heard the tales of the good—looking german driver, your friend spent most of your train journeys across countries gushing about him and half a dozen other names you didn’t recognise.

“here, my treat,” sebastian quickly cut across you before you could pay, shoving a few euros into the barman’s hand. you didn’t bother arguing — he was a world famous formula one driver and you were a full time university student. he could afford a vodka soda better than you could.

“thank you, sebastian.”

“you’re welcome…” he trailed off, searching desperately in his memory for your name.

“y/n,” you offered, a grin tugging at your lips. you couldn’t find it in yourself to be annoyed at his lack of attention, not when his eyes were shining up at you the way they were. he repeated it, your birthright sounding far nicer on his tongue than your own. he’d shaken your hand then, ordering an apology round of shots for his “shameful behaviour”.

a few hours later, you held his belongings as he vomited into an empty alleyway. the streets of budapest were practically deserted, town clock chiming three in the morning. sebastian’s challenge of shot after shot soon became a competition with only himself, ending up much drunker than yourself and with no one around to supervise his stupidity.

thankfully, tucked somewhere in his pocket, was the address of his hotel. you got him there, eventually, after a few stops to sit down or sebastian’s several attempts to climb a wall. you took him all the way to him room, getting him into bed and leaving a note and some painkillers by his side.

from then on, you were friends. even when you went back to university, he did all he could to fly you out to races and let you see a little more of the world. australia, japan, abu dhabi… you’d been there to see him win every world championship, to hug him and celebrate with one too many drinks afterwards. you were still always the one to tuck him in after.

the only problem was, amongst this wonderful friendship, you were completely and utterly in love with him.

he didn’t feel the same. you figured that out one night in monaco when he took you for dinner and snuck you down to the beach afterwards. you kissed him on the sand, naive and innocent, only twenty and unsure of what this would mean. he’d been kind about it, sweet as ever, letting you indulge yourself before letting you down slowly.

“maybe someday, when you’re older.”

his words played in your mind like a broken record every birthday from them on. would this be the year? you tried going out with other boys, but none of them compared to him. your sebastian. every year you got older, so did he, and soon you were twenty—six and him thirty—one.

in those years, you were glad for his wise, older words. they’d kept your friendship intact, giving you your person — the one you could talk to in good times and bad. no matter how painful your love for him was, never fading over time, you kept it all down for the sake of keeping him in your life.

“penny for your thoughts?” sebastian’s usual teasing tone pulls you from your thoughts, the montage of your relationship playing in your head. you glance up at him, forcing on a smile.

“sorry, zoned out for a minute,” you breathed out a laugh, smoothing down the skirt of your dress in the mirror. “how do i look? do i look alright?”

sebastian took a moment to let his eyes rake over your body. the dress was a pale blue colour, adorned with pale white flowers that floated about your ankles. he could only describe it as soft, a light summer dress that moved with the wind but hugged your lines perfectly. god, you were heavenly.

“you look beautiful. you are beautiful.” sebastian’s face had softened considerably, looking at you in a way that could almost be mistaken for love. you stare at him, yearning to decipher the thoughts in his head, but you come up empty.

inhaling some feeling back into your body, you move from his gaze. “i better go. robb will be waiting.”

robb. sebastian had been with you when you met. a grand event, drivers and socialites alike. sebastian had gone to get you both a drink when he returned to find the man flirting with you. you were smiling and laughing, your hand finding it’s place on the man’s arm. sebastian turned on his heel and left you to it, finishing both of your drinks in his stride.

since then, you had been to dinner with robb twice. he was charming, funny and sweet, knew just how to woo you. admittedly, you struggled to find the spark that people often spoke of, but you were willing to pass it up for a chance at some kind of romance. sebastian, however, found himself battling with this strange feeling in his stomach every time you spoke to him about robb.

he could feel it again now, watching you skip off to meet your date. twisting and tugging, nausea rising in his chest. it was a new feeling, and one that he hated having. it was selfish of him but he couldn’t help it — you had been his for so long, only his, and now you were slipping away.

“ — but it’s far too cold there to live all year…” chuckling at robb’s latest tale, you felt the words on your tongue fade as he appeared nearby. you had told sebastian where you and robb were going, a small jazz bar with expensive cocktails and live music. so why had he come?

“seb?”

he smiled, brows furrowing in faux confusion. “oh, hey you two. fancy seeing you here.”

if looks could kill, sebastian would be six feet under by now. your glare was cold, but missed completely by robb as he engaged in conversation with your friend. for the next thirty minutes, you didn’t say a word. you didn’t get a chance, with robb asking sebastian a million questions on racing and the latter gladly entertaining him.

“excuse me,” you muttered, grabbing your bag and pushing yourself from the chair. your date barely noticed, staring at a picture on sebastian’s phone. the blonde watched you go, snatching his device back and following you without a second thought.

“hey, y/n! wait!” he hurried after you down the street, struggling to keep up with your hurried pace. “y/n!”

his arm reached out to grab you, spinning you on your heel to face him. he knew with one look that you were mad, and he suddenly regretted every choice he’d made that evening. “what?”

“where are you going?” he asked, rather sheepish.

“i’m going home, sebastian,” your voice was sharp, cheeks red with anger and embarrassment. “my date seems pretty occupied with you in there, so i’m leaving.”

“no, wait…” he grappled desperately, grabbing at your wrist again to keep you there. his lips part, searching for an excuse, but nothing comes out.

“you knew i was coming here tonight! why would you show up when you knew?” seething, tears pricked at your eyes. you cursed yourself for the german making you such a mess. “i told you how excited i was and you purposely came to ruin it! why?”

sebastian sighed, silent. all of that jealously turned to hatred, for himself and his stupid, stupid heart. “i’m sorry.”

you looked at him, waiting for more. needing more than just that.

“i’m sorry, i just — i hated seeing you so happy,” as soon as it was out, as soon as he saw your face twist, he knew it didn’t sound right. “no, shit. not like that. i wasn’t the one making you happy and it felt awful. i didn’t want to see you with anyone else. y/n… i’ve been such an idiot.”

the words sunk in as he tried to tangle his fingers in you, squeezing himself closer to you in the street. your head shook, backing away with every inch he moved closer.

“no, no. seb, don’t do this,” you muttered, ignoring his pleas for your forgiveness. you felt dizzy, all of this coming to soon. “seb, you’re being mean. stop it.”

with your voice sterner, he took a step back.

“i’ve waited for you for seven years. i waited and you never came, but the second i find somebody else you figure it out?” tongue laced with disbelief, you felt your feet stumble on the cobbles below. sebastian reached out to you, worry crossing his face. he felt terrible. he’d put you through so much and expected even more.

“i know,” sebastian whispered, daring to step closer again. you let him now, proving yourself weak to his affection once again. his hand finds your cheek, warming it from the night air, your head resting against his hold. “i’m a fool. i didn’t realise it before but i’ve been in love with you for so long. i don’t know when it happened, but it did. and there’s nothing i can do about it but beg you to forgive me.”

your eyes turn soft, melting into his confessional. everything you’d waited for and dreamed of, the words that haunted you for years of sleepless nights. it was happening and none of it felt real. seven years of wanting it, and now you were hesitant.

“will you forgive me?” sebastian pleads, thumbs rubbing gently at the flesh of your cheeks. his lips, ready for yours, but not until you are. “i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. i promise.”

you smile, because how can you not? when he’s looking at you like you’re the one who hung the moon and the stars — but he’s the sun. your sun, your light, your love.

“yes.” it’s a whisper when it finally comes, but he hears it. his own smile creeps up, squeezing you in delight.

“yes?” he repeats, waiting for you to confirm it again. you do, and he wastes no time in kissing you. not like that night on the beach, young and unsure, but full of love and certainty. because he loves you, with everything he is, and he needs to show you. all soft lips and daring tongues, arms winding around your waist to pull you flush to him.

he loves you and you love him. at the end of the day, or seven years, there’s nothing else that really matters.

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k!#💌 ﹐ writings.#formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel blurb #sebastian vettel drabble #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel fluff

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